


like a love song on the radio

by eversall



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, M/M, like hella fluff, some sort of piano bar au idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 06:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10758537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eversall/pseuds/eversall
Summary: Simoncouldbe reading into the tiny glimpses of Raphael’s personality he gets a little too much. But he doesn’t think he is, and it honestly doesn’t matter; when the other man looks at him, he wants to know what it would feel like to be Raphael’s happily ever after..Simon's a bartender, Raphael plays the piano, and somehow they manage to communicate to each other that yeah, they both want this.





	like a love song on the radio

**Author's Note:**

> this is a very late birthday present for the love of my life yamina ([ raphsantiagay](https://raphsantiagay.tumblr.com/) on tumblr) who prompted me with saphael + piano bar au and who is pretty much single-handedly not letting me forget about the BEAUTY that is season 1 saphael (who is 2a saphael? i don't know her) and KEEPING MY LOVE ALIVE. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DARLING HERE'S TO YOU AND YOUR RIDICULOUS COKES!!
> 
> the fake "song" in there is something i wrote so don't judge too hard lmao. but the title is taken from symphony by clean bandit and zara larsson. as always, feel free to prompt me on my [ tumblr ](http://eversall.tumblr.com/).

“And _that’s_ how I ended up hungover at three in the morning, barely functioning, but somehow faced with an entire pizza and a recipe for a drink that tastes like buttered pancakes.” Simon finishes with a flourish, grinning crookedly and sliding drinks across the counter to the two guys who laugh delightedly. “It’s honestly a miracle that – hey, Raphael!” He calls out cheerfully, as Raphael slips out of the back room – immaculate as ever in his pressed suit – and crosses the room in long strides to his piano. Raphael glances at him and lifts an eyebrow.

“Simon.” He acknowledges. “Working hard or hardly working?”

On anyone else it would sound like a joke, but on Raphael – whose usual tone is snippy and cold – it sounds like the insult it really is. Simon sighs, shrugs, and turns back to his customers.  
“One day,” He confides to them, “I’ll get that man to give me a hello like a normal human being.”

“Or,” Jace says, deftly passing behind him to grab a bottle off the shelf behind them, “you quit while you’re ahead and have some respect for yourself.”

“Sounds unlikely.” Simon cheerfully responds.

.

_Hunter’s Moon_ is a piano bar tucked away into a corner of the city with darkened windows and filthy rich customers. It’s the kind of place bigshots come to talk business, to shake hands and grease palms. Simon and Jace were picked up by Maia – the owner – as bartenders after their mixology blog blew up a few years ago, gaining traction with their new inventions. They were studying chemistry in college back then, and like most college students they had liked to party and go out and drink; unlike most _normal_ students they’d learned early on that they could do all sorts of strange things with the right mix of alcohol, and had made it a hobby to one-up each other in creating new ones.

Clary had encouraged them to blog about it, and Maia had picked them up soon after. Maia’s a gem of a boss; honestly, Simon’s proud to say that she’s their _friend_. Or, well, he considered her a friend until she went and hired Raphael, who Simon can’t quite decide if he hates or hates to love; it’s definitely one of the two.

Raphael is their pianist, and he’s _amazing_ at what he does – when he sits on his bench, the whole world might as well not exist as his fingers fly over the keys, coaxing melodies out that Simon could never hope to replicate. (Accompany, though, on his guitar – maybe one day?)

Simon just…really likes the way Raphael plays the piano, his single-minded determination to his craft. And he also really likes the way Raphael’s face goes all soft when someone compliments his skills or asks them to teach him, or even just discuss what music means to them.

So it’s definitely a shame that Raphael _basically_ doesn’t like anything Simon does, at all.

.

Their first meeting went something a little like this –

Simon’s arguing with Jace in the staff meeting room about who gets to do the convention this weekend, and Jace throws a bottle at him. This is not _new_ ; he and Jace are the opposite of consummate professionals, and they’ve genuinely gotten used enough to each other that he stumbles a bit and catches the bottle, feeling a warm body stopping his slight fall backwards.

“Lovely. A bartender drunk on the job.” A voice says, velvety smooth and annoyed as fuck. Simon scowls as he turns, coming fact to face with an attractive man. He blinks for a second, taken aback, before he remembers why he was annoyed in the first case and frowns again.

“I’m not _drunk_.” He says indignantly. “Who’re you?” Admittedly not the nicest welcome, but hey. The guy just implied he drinks on the job like some kind of idiot.

“Raphael. I’m the pianist.” Raphael says, his eyes sweeping critically over Simon.

“Believe it or not,” Jace says, spinning in his chair and regarding them with a bemused expression on his face, “clumsy is Simon’s _normal_ state. Drunk Simon is downright graceful.”

“Unlike drunk Jace, who is clingy and weepy and very much undignified in every definition of the word.” Simon mutters under his breath out of habit, and Raphael lets out a surprised laugh, looking at Simon.

The laugh transforms his face, brightens his eyes and soothes away stress lines on his forehead. Raphael is _younger_ than Simon first imagined, and Simon eye’s wide as he feels the familiar flutter of his heart. Raphael looks at him like he can’t quite believe he laughed either, but it’s out there now and Simon grins; he’s taking it as invitation to pursue a friendship, if nothing else.

“For what it’s worth,” Simon says, saluting Raphael with the empty bottle he’s still holding that Jace threw at him, “welcome to the team.”

.

Simon has the sort of weird schedule that involves him coming home at around three in the morning, crashing until ten or eleven, and then starting his day around the afternoon, when most people eat lunch.

“You are a degenerate.” Rebecca tells him, spearing a piece of _his_ salmon on her fork and staring at it critically.

“Eat your own food.” Simon whines as he chugs down his coffee with a single-minded determination. Rebecca gives him a judgmental look but pushes over her cup of coffee to him as well, and he takes it gratefully.

“Busy night?” she asks.

“It always is.” He says, but he shakes his head as he yawns. “Back to back gigs, didn’t get much sleep.”

“Get some sleep,” Rebecca says, pursing her lips, “and call Mom more often, would you? She worries. She wants to know – “

“Oh _God_ , here we go – “  
“ – when you’re gonna bring somebody home.” His sister finishes, and Simon scowls as he takes one of her potatoes.

“You’re such an asshat.” He grumbles. She laughs, pushing her sunglass further up her hair as she leans back in her chair. “You could have stayed single forever so Mom would bug you and forget to bug me.”

“Well, someone decided they wanted to tolerate me.” She sighs theatrically. “It’s tragic, I know.”

“When is your boyfriend going to realize you’re a lunatic?” Simon asks, shaking his fork at her. In true Simon Lewis fashion, the fork goes clattering to the ground, and Simon curses as he stands to retrieve it – and runs straight into Raphael.

“You…” Simon says, and his brain sort of screeches to a halt as he takes in what Raphael is _wearing_. “You own something other than _suits_?” He asks, incredulously gesturing to the shorts and tank he’s sporting like a _normal person_ , something which Raphael is decidedly _not_. “Also, what are you doing here?” he adds as an afterthought.

“It’s a nice summer day and I came to have brunch with my brother.” Raphael says, gesturing to a table on the other side of the patio. “I see you don’t think before you speak even _outside_ the workplace.”

“Excuse me?” Rebecca asks from where she’s sitting at the table, frowning as she sizes Raphael up like he’s a potential threat. Simon rolls his eyes, but he smiles at his sister. It’s always nice to know they’re on the same page, Lewis siblings for life – she’ll punch him with little to no incentive but if someone so much as _looks_ at him the wrong way, she’ll tear them a new one.

“It’s fine, that’s Raphael’s way of showing affection.” Simon grins, gesturing to the man in questions. Raphael scowls at him, but it’s weakened by the way his eyes slide to Rebecca, looking uncomfortable as she continues to glare at him. “Raphael, this is my sister Rebecca. Becky, this is Raphael, he’s a coworker. He’s the amazing pianist I told you about.”

“You talk about me?” Raphael asks, forgetting to look annoyed. Simon snorts.

“You literally made everyone at the bar stop drinking the other day when you played that jazz piece.” He says. “Of course I tell people about you.”

“Oh.” Raphael says softly, looking stunned. “Thank you.”

“Mm.” Simon smiles, noting that Raphael looks visibly flustered at the praise, and takes pity on him. “You can – sorry about running into you, by the way.”

“None of us are surprised about you running into things.” Raphael responds dryly, falling comfortable back into a smirk. “See you at work, Simon.”

“See you.” Simon says, staring as Raphael leaves for a second too long. Rebecca, of course, capitalizes on the second and spends the rest of the meal heckling him with increasingly inappropriate suggestions for a public establishment.  
“The _worst_.” Simon hisses at her as they pay the bill and leave. Rebecca grins.

“Simon’s got a _cru – ush_!” She sings obnoxiously in response.

.

Simon _does_ have a crush. It’s a little ridiculous, but something about Raphael’s little moments of vulnerability draw him in. Sure, the snark he gets from the man balances on the delicate edge between hateful and funny, but that’s not that hard to do with Simon, who generally gives as good as he gets and can be an asshole too if he really puts his mind to it. But it’s the other part –

The part where Raphael never drinks anything Simon sends to him, but still takes the time to compliment him on a drink if he hears a patron say something about it; the part where he says maybe three nice things a day but still punched a man that threw out a slur at Magnus – their publicist and Raphael’s closest friend – so that “Magnus doesn’t have to chip his nail polish over an uncultured imbecile”; the part where he laughs at Simon’s jokes when he thinks no one’s looking, frowns at Jace’s teasing despite teasing Simon just as hard, and glares at any bar patron who so much as blinks at Simon in the wrong way. He – he’s sweet in bizarre, unexpected ways, and he cares deeply about everything, even if he doesn’t show it.

Simon _could_ be reading into the tiny glimpses of Raphael’s personality he gets a little too much. But he doesn’t think he is, and it honestly doesn’t matter; when the other man looks at him, he wants to know what it would feel like to be Raphael’s happily ever after.

.

“Hypothetical,” Simon says, shaking the mixer and quirking an eyebrow at the couple – David and Youngsoo -  sitting at his bar, “what do you get when you combine a classic drink, your favorite dessert, and your anniversary?” It’s closing time and they’re his last customers.

“I can’t _imagine_.” Raphael says dryly as he passes by after finishing his set, sliding the still full lemon drop back across the counter. Simon frowns briefly at it; Raphael _never_ drinks the stuff Simon sends to him.

“Well.” He says, ignoring Raphael and turning back to the couple in front of him, who are looking at the drink he’s pouring out curiously. “You get _your_ drink! Like your song, you know, but. Alcoholic!” He sets down two glasses in front of them, and they both take a sip, their expressions shifting from polite interest to _fascination_.

“Shit.” The first guy – David - says. “How did you _do_ that?” Youngsoo nods, looking down at his glass with a bemused expression, and Simon laughs, preening slightly. Raphael is still leaning against the counter, staring at the proceedings with an air of annoyance, like he _always_ does.

“You guys asked for something to celebrate your engagement, so. We came up with this. Jace mixed the base spirits, and I experimented with the syrups.” He smiles, genuinely pleased as he gestures to the silver bands on their ring fingers. “Congratulations on that, by the way. Really. It’s always inspiring to see people genuinely in love.”

“ _Thank_ you.” Youngsoo says, and he shares a glance with David before he nods, turning back to Simon. “We’d love to hire you guys for the ceremony, by the way.”

“Good choice!” Jace calls from the other side of the bar, tossing a bottle from hand to hand and spinning it, looking up briefly and flashing a grin at the couple. “Simon brings the brains, I bring the good looks.”

“You wish!” Simon calls back, before he turns and flicks a glance at Raphael, who is – actually staring at the rings on the couple’s fingers, the corners of his mouth turned down unhappily. “You can talk to Maia about the logistics, but. Um. If you’re looking for a musician, Raphael is the best I know of.”

Raphael looks up, surprise evident on his face as he looks at Simon, holding the gaze for a moment too long before he focuses back on David and Youngsoo, his face sliding into a polite smile.  
“We do want a pianist.” David muses. “You’ve got all the money, Youngsoo, we might as well use it.”

“We’ll talk to Maia.” Youngsoo says decisively, sliding money across the counter as they slide off their stools. “Thank you so much.”

“My pleasure.” Simon says, smiling until they disappear before he turns on Raphael, frowning. “What was that?” He asks, slamming a hand down on the bar.

“What was what?” Raphael mutters, looking down at the counter and tracing invisible patterns into it.

“You could have looked a _little_ more excited about them celebrating something so happy!” Simon snaps. “I know you hate me or whatever, but at least be polite to our customers. What, are you homophobic or something?”

“Ha!” Raphael barks out, the unhappy expression back on his face. “No.” Simon waits, but the other man doesn’t elaborate, and he throws his hands in the air.

“I’m going to clean up.” He says snidely, turning away, and when he turns back minutes later Raphael’s gone, his drink still sitting untouched. Simon growls in frustration and tosses it back, the alcohol burning a warm path through his body.

It isn’t until much later that he sees Raphael again. He’s just come out of Maia’s office, tying up the loose ends of events that he and Jace have been booked for in the upcoming week, when he hears the soft strain of piano music. He frowns, because he was pretty sure that everyone else left.

“Oh, I’m not doing this.” Jace groans when he sees the look on Simon’s face. “Go flirt more with Raphael, see if I care. You could all save us the trouble and just fuck.” He says unhappily, his weariness making him grumpy.

“Fuck you, go home and bug Clary with that attitude.” Simon responds easily, only half paying-attention. Jace waves him off and heads to the parking lot; Simon makes his way down the stairs to the darkened floor of the lounge, peering at the one light still on over the piano.

Raphael’s sitting there, his shirtsleeves pushed up and his tie loosened, his fingers dancing out a slow, simple melody. He looks desperately sad, his eyes focused on the sheets in front of him. Every so often he stops, frowns, bites his lip and scribbles something on the sheet with a nearby pencil.

Simon leans against the doorway, hidden in the darkness, content to just listen to Raphael. It sounds beautiful, despite being depressing, and he wants to know _why_ Raphael sounds so heartbroken. He wants to be able to go over there and smooth the lines of worry away, kiss away anything that would make the man unhappy. Simon is much more gone on Raphael than he ever cares to admit; but here, standing just out of sight, it’s easier to watch wistfully from a distance and let his heart _want_ , just a little bit.

He’s just about to step forward and announce his presence, maybe convince Raphael to actually tell him what’s wrong, when Raphael begins to _sing_. His voice is low and throaty, heavy with meaning without trying to be. It curls around the room, strikingly lovely, and Simon’s heart breaks a little more as he hears the words.

 

>   
> _I’ve been waiting_  
>  _here, in my corner,_  
>  _where the grass doesn’t grow at all_  
>  _trying to tell you something with silence_  
>  _and trying to hide it all the same_  
>   
>  _you’ve been staring_  
>  _and I see your hands anchor strong_  
>  _would they tie me down_  
>  _and stop my flight risk heart from falling_  
>   
>  _and how can I ask you, how can I say_  
>  _that I want you here with me_  
>  _and how can I ask you, how can I say_  
>  _that you are everything I dream_  
>   
>  _and how can I ask you, how can I say_  
>  _the grass won’t grow here, not today_  
>  _how can I ask you, how can I say_  
>  _that I want you to stay, but_  
>  _you should run away_  
>     
>  _but I’ve been waiting_  
>  _here, in my corner_  
>  _where the grass doesn’t grow_  
>  _at all_  
>   
>  _tie me down, love, my_  
>  _flight risk heart has_  
>  _fallen_  
>  _all_  
>  _the same_  
> 

How can you listen to someone pour their heart out and not hope, in some intangible, fragile way that you matter to them? That it could be – just a little – about you –

Simon sways forward unthinkingly and hits a chair; the jarring noise abruptly cuts off Raphael’s singing, the piano screeching to a halt as he whirls around to look at Simon. For a split second he looks _shattered_ , overwhelmed with grief, but it’s gone in a second and replaced by anger.

“What are you _doing_?” Raphael asks furiously. Simon opens his mouth, unsure, but Raphael barrels on. “You shouldn’t have come in here like that, that was _private_.”  
“It was beautiful,” Simon argues, “and it’s not like this is your house, I work here _too,_ Raphael, I know you don’t like it or whatever – “

“It’s a crap piece.” Raphael insists. “It’s – hopeless, and you weren’t meant to hear it Simon.” His voice is thick with emotion, and Simon is so, _so_ tired of being pushed away at every turn by Raphael.

“Fine.” Simon says quietly. “I know when I’m not wanted.” He turns around and stalks to the exit, heart in his throat, when –

“Simon.” Raphael calls out resignedly. “Simon, wait, I – I’m sorry.”

“Right.” Simon says, still not turning around, massaging his temple as he stares unseeingly into the darkness. “I know you think I’m irritating, and I talk too much, and I don’t take anything seriously. I always think we’re friends, and you always just – make me understand that you really don’t _want_ to be, so – “

“ _Simon_.” Raphael’s voice repeats, anguished, and there’s a thud; Simon turns around confusedly to see that Raphael’s leaped nimbly off the stage and crossing the room in large strides, coming to a rest right in front of Simon. “It’s not like that.”

“No?” Simon asks, his mouth parting in surprise at the intensity on Raphael’s face, “Because I don’t – “

Raphael lets out a wordless growl and twists his hand in the collar of Simon’s shirt, yanking him down into a kiss that’s off-center. It’s chaste; just Raphael pressing up against Simon, something unbearably hesitant in the kiss, so different from the confidence Raphael usually oozes.  

It shatters Simon’s world.

“You – _infuriate_ me.” Raphael says harshly as he pulls away. “But you’re so – _good_. You make me smile.”

“ _Seriously_?” Simon exclaims. “You _glared_ at me today over that couple’s wedding thing, I don’t think I’ve _ever_ made you smile – “

“It’s complicated.” Raphael says quietly, withdrawing his hands. Simon keenly feels the loss, and he takes a half-step forward without thinking. Raphael looks at him, a tiny sliver of scared vulnerability showing on his face. “Simon, do you – “

“Obviously I like you.” Simon laughs self-deprecatingly. “The question is why _you_ like me.”

“ _Why_.” Raphael says incredulously. “You’re everything, but I’m not – I can’t give you everything, Simon, I can’t do that.” The words spill out in a rush, like Raphael’s been waiting to say them, and there’s a brief look of fear in the other man’s eyes before he straightens his shoulders and faces Simon again.

“I don’t follow.” Simon says blankly, and Raphael clenches his hands into fists.

“I’m asexual.” He spits out. “I like you, but – I don’t know when, if ever, I’ll do most of the things that constitutes the average relationship. It’s – I’m not ashamed of who I am, but I don’t – I don’t know how to. Be with you. I didn’t think – when I saw that couple today, and you were smiling at them, I just – was stupidly jealous.”

Simon inhales sharply, things falling into place as he takes in Raphael’s defensive, angry posture, his heart beating in double time as he considers what it means that Raphael’s trusting him with this much. That such a fiercely private, guarded person is laying so much of his heart out for Simon to see.

“I think,” Simon finally says, his voice quiet but firm, “that you should leave that choice up to me.”

“Simon – “ Raphael says helplessly, his eyes growing sad, but Simon cuts him off.

“I’m an adult.” He points out. “I know we joke around, but. Screw whatever misconceived notion you have about the average relationship. I know what I’m doing, and what I want, Raphael. I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t thought about having sex with you – “ Raphael _flinches_ , and Simon hastily continues, “but that is _nothing_ in the face of how much I really just want to _be_ with you, no sex necessary.”

“This isn’t something casual.” Raphael says, taking a step back and shaking his head, his hands coming up defensively. Simon reaches out and catches them; they’re _shaking_. “I’m and all or nothing kind of guy, Simon – “

“So am I. I’m all in.” Simon smiles wryly and Raphael bites his lip, his throat working as he swallows convulsively. “Have you ever seen me _not_ throw myself head-first as fast and as clumsily as humanly possible?” Raphael laughs a little a that, his eyes staring at where their hands are clasped together. “ _Raphael_ – let me try to make you happy, yeah? I want this, but if I can’t convince you now – give me a chance to prove it. Let me date you.” Raphael looks at him, holds his gaze for a long moment, and then he tips forward to press another kiss to Simon’s lips.

“Yeah.” He rasps out after, drawing back just enough to rest his forehead against Simon’s. “That works. Let’s never go to a bar for a date, though.” He smirks, a spark back in his eyes, and Simon laughs helplessly, his shoulders shaking as he clutches Raphael close and memorizes the moment of the darkened bar around them and Raphael in his arms.

.

“This song is for Simon.” Raphael announces simply a month later while he’s playing, and not all of the people at the lounge make the connection between the bartender with glasses quoting Star Trek at uninterested, if amused customers and the man whose name Raphael lovingly says, his voice caressing the syllables, but –

When Raphael spends the entire song glancing at the man being the bar, his eyes unusually soft, and the man in question cannot stop bouncing on the balls of his feet as he grins like a maniac at the pianist, his hands fluttering nervously and knocking a bottle off the shelf that his fellow bartender rescues, laughing, it’s pretty damn obvious that they’ve both found the person they’ll never be able to take their eyes off of, come hell or high water.

It’s pretty damn obvious they’re in love – both of them completely, unflinchingly, all in.

**Author's Note:**

> _I just wanna be part of your symphony_   
>  _will you hold me tight and not let go?_   
>  _symphony_   
>  _like a love song on the radio_   
>  _will you hold me tight and not let go?_


End file.
